


Pretending That This Skin Is Your Skin

by wibblyR



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblyR/pseuds/wibblyR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Cas have captured and restrained Demon!Dean. Cas has to put an end to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretending That This Skin Is Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> For [Flora](iris-land.tumblr.com)'s birthday... sorry about the angst...oops ?  
> I actually think Sam wouldn't leave, but let's pretend he would, for plot reasons.  
> I use [Askance](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Askance)'s theory that Claire has some of Castiel's grace left in her and that they'll use that to give back Castiel his grace.  
> Title from Siken's _Dirty Valentine_

Eyes like a void. A black mirror with nothing underneath.

Cas can see himself in it. Even his own wicked reflection seems to taunt him.

But Dean’s voice (warped, and not his) does that enough already. Cas tunes it out, but Dean’s mouth still curls and sneers and twists. He seems to have cultivated the plumpness of his lips. Cas wishes he didn’t know how.

He winces at Sam’s voice rising, the wounded anger sizzling. A one-way shouting match will solve nothing and they know it. Cas touches Sam’s elbow lightly and Sam glances at him, letting his voice die down. His eyes are glistening, deeply set in dark shadows and bruised skin.

He turns his back on his brother and bends to bring his lips to Cas’s ear. His breath is hot with tears.

« Do what you must », he says, and Cas can’t bear looking at him.

Sam’s hand lingers on Cas’s shoulder, a supporting gesture for both of them. Dean sees that. His smirk punctuates the loud metal clang of the door on Sam that Cas uses to steel himself.

« I see », Dean says.

Cas stares back at him. A black mirror. Nothing underneath.

 _You can’t save him,_ the angel thinks. _Burn him. Kill him. Destroy him. Erase him._

Cas agrees. Cas also wants to kiss him and run his fingers through his hair. It’s longer now and looks so soft.

« I doubt you’re going to unbind me, so if you want to fuck me, you can call Sammy back and pretend he’s me. I can watch. » Dean's words are poisonous; warped, and not his.

Cas’s face burns but he doesn’t look away. If he talks, he’s lost. He knows it from all the other times.

_“I know you can fight it, Dean-“_

_He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, a litany of words not meant for the man whose face he’s grabbing. They struggle against a wall, Dean’s fingers grappling at his trenchcoat’s sleeves. Cas kisses him, overwhelmed, and doesn’t know if he bites into despair or hope. When he leans back, seeing Dean’s face smooth and tentatively smiling and perfect again, he decides on hope, but then it’s all wrong, eyes like a void, Dean pulling his hair and returning the kiss with cruel hunger, slamming Cas against the opposite wall, and Cas thinks,_ Sam how are going to do this if I can’t- if we can’t-

Dean’s restraints must be inflicting white-hot pain where they touch him but he has never looked so relaxed. It’s like he knows Cas’s feet will inevitably draw the angel to him. Cas lets the painful tug pull him towards Dean’s chair, eyes fixed on his smile, warped, and not his. He is a statue, waiting.

Cas’s hands slide to the shackles at Dean’s wrists, making them disappear and replacing them in the same breath. He can’t help it: he kisses Dean, eyes closed tightly. Dean kisses back immediately, hungrily opening his mouth to devour Cas’s. He tastes like smoke, burnt rotten things. Cas can feel Dean’s fingertips stroking the hammering pulse on his wrists and his eyes sting behind his eyelids.

He moves his hands up Dean’s arms and rests them on Dean’s collarbones, thumbs at the vee of his throat. Dean uses his now-free hands to pull him in, pushing at Cas’s shoulder blades, fingers like knife-points. Cas’s breath is erratic; he knows he has to do it, but Dean presses into him almost earnestly, and Cas can’t help putting a knee on the chair, between Dean’s legs. He suffocates on the heat radiating from Dean and from himself and between them.

He bites on Dean’s lower lip as his hands inch tighter around Dean’s neck and start to glow. Dean’s reaction is instantaneous: he grips Cas’s arms and pushes him away, to no avail, a “wait- how-” lost between their tongues.

_The first thing she does when she sees Cas, after gaping for a total of two seconds, is jumping on him, eyes like a fury, nails sharp enough to scratch him raw._

_Sam restrains her, and Cas gives him a grateful nod. He can barely stay on his feet anymore._

_“Claire,” he says. She looks feral and blurry in Sam’s arms, blond hair cut short like a wild halo. “I think we can help each other.”_

Cas thinks he can hear or feel Sam crying somewhere in the bunker, or maybe it’s himself, maybe the howling rattling his skull belongs to him. He realizes this when Dean, like a threatened bug looking to hurt him, bites his jaw where the salt of his tears gather. Dean thrashes and struggles against Cas’s hold with as much use as a dying animal against a boulder. Cas knows the bright blue light of his palms is scorching Dean’s skin to the bone and he can feel the holy fire on his blistering lips as he locks them again with Dean's; it’s taking all his strength to not let Dean’s groans make him relent his grasp. Their faces press and collide fiercely, Dean drawing blood on Cas’s with his teeth, Cas forcing himself to stare into Dean’s earth-green pupils.

Eyes like a void.


End file.
